


On A Good Day

by just_elevator_music



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Adoption, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon-Typical Violence, Family Fluff, Fluff, Gen, Hospitalization, Levi (Shingeki no Kyojin) is a Softie, Memories, No Romance, Past Character Death, Past Child Abuse, Past Sexual Abuse, Sad Levi (Shingeki no Kyojin), Trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-08
Updated: 2019-05-08
Packaged: 2020-02-28 11:40:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,297
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18755728
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/just_elevator_music/pseuds/just_elevator_music
Summary: Levi has some regrets.But maybe, just maybe, this group of troublemakers can pull him out of his inner turmoil.





	On A Good Day

**Author's Note:**

> Set after 845 but before 850.  
> Levi’s POV basically the whole time.  
> !!!Warning!!! There are extensive No Regrets spoilers and references in this fic. Do not read if you haven’t watched/read it.
> 
> Please alert me to any grammar/spelling mistakes!

I got tired of losing my friends a long time ago.

On and on, like a spinning wheel. Watch them come, watch them die, watch them burn. That is, if there’s even anything _left_ to burn.

I was left with one solution: don’t develop close bonds with _anyone._ And for the most part, it’s easy. I’ve practically mastered the art of detachment. Turning my life into a vicious cycle of killing titans and casting distasteful glances has worked wonders so far. I try to pay no heed to my squad, actively ignoring them; their habits and mannerisms that I’ve unfortunately memorized, their daily schedule, et cetera. So far, I’ve never succeeded.

But I still do my best.

Like right now.

Sitting at my desk, attempting to ignore Oruo twiddling his pencil. The way Petra’s absently pulling at her hair. Gunther, tugging on a loose button on his sleeve. Although I don’t _want_ to, I know precisely what those little quirks mean. They’re nervous.

“What?” I bark, and they all flinch. These idiots have been up against _titans_ and still start at my voice. Petra speaks up.

“There’s some…thieves on the loose,” she says. “Commander Erwin specifically asked for you.”

I tap my fingers on the arm of my chair. _Thieves, huh?_ “Did he now?” I drone, not pulling my gaze from Petra’s skittish eyes. She nods.

“We’ve seen them before. Troublemakers, these three. Showed up right after Maria was breached.”

I sigh and heave myself from my chair, tempted to laugh at the sheer _irony._ An ex-thief, making a living on catching thieves. That thought might’ve been morbidly funny if it didn’t make me sick.

“Is there really nothing better to do?” I growl at them, my back turned.

“Not until the next scouting mission, Captain,” Petra pipes up, her voice edging on impatience. I take her following silence as a cue to hurry.

 

 

Standing on the roof of the tower, I can see practically everything.

The sun glinting off every red shingle. The distant trees, green smudges in the landscape. The streets. The people.

To most, it’s a powerful sensation. Knowing that each and every citizen is below them, and in that moment, that _tiny_ moment, feeling as though they’re on top of the world.

But to me?

It’s…exhausting.

I see this every day. Every day, I watch the sun rise and set over those looming grey walls, each tile shimmering with colorful hues. Every day, I think about what lies beyond these confines. And every day, I realize again that I’ve been through this song and dance a thousand times before.

Like watching your friends burn, it becomes monotonous after a while.

I shake my head and focus on the alleged thieves. They’re not difficult to find, not with the trail of destruction they’ve left in their wake. I decide to pretend that I can’t figure it out myself, at least until Gunther informs me.

“Corner of Lundle Street and Carthy Avenue, Captain.”

I step off the rooftop and maneuver my way to the location, zipping down alleyways and across stone buildings, the wind screaming in my ears. I’ve gotten used to that, too; years of using the 3DMG has dulled my sensitivity towards the unpredictability of flying on wires. Within minutes, the scene unfolds itself before me.

Smashed crates lie strewn across the street. Panicked citizens do much the same, in what I deem to be an overreaction on their parts. Erwin Smith stands, jaded, at the center of the fray, his shoulders slumped with the exact amount of fatigue you would expect from a man of his military position. I land beside him and run my eyes over the commotion once again.

“Can’t handle a couple thieves now, Commander?” I shoot at him. He offers a weary smile in response.

“Levi…” He doesn’t pull his eyes away from what’s ahead. “Glad you could join us.”

“You know, you could always recruit them to kill you through a hired businessman, force them into the Survey Corps, then rip everything of value from them,” I sneer. “Word on the street is that tactic works wonders.”

Erwin doesn’t reply. He doesn’t even look at me. All these years later, and I can still feel the guilt radiating from him. As if it’s _his_ burden to carry. As if _he_ has to live with the knowledge that he got _his_ friends killed. As if _he’d_ found his only friends dead on the field, blood and entrails flying through the air like morbid confetti, body parts once belonging to those he loved scattered in the grass-

I shake the image from my head and turn to the agitated mass, calling out the most tactful phrase to materialize in my mind.

“Can _one_ of you blubbering idiots tell me which direction the thieves went?”

One of the partakers pauses to aim a finger down the leftmost road. I pull two blades and make my way towards it, the crowd nervously parting at the sight of my steel gear. It’s not high on my to-do list to make them feel any more comfortable, not when I’ve got shit to wreck and higher-ups to please. Turning the corner, I find a covered alleyway, lined with doors and windows.

“Great,” I mutter. “I guess that’s a _no_ for 3DMG.” Instead, I begin to walk. Slanted sunlight peaks through cracks in the canopy, momentarily blinding me every few steps as I make my way down the darkened backstreet, the crunch of gravel echoing down the path. After what feels like forever of strolling past boarded-up windows and splintering doors, I spot a small cluster of scrawny teenagers eating bread.

Deciding to confront them, I make my way over to the group.

“Have you three seen a gang of bandits come this way?” I ask them.

All three look up at me, and I lock eyes with one. Piercing green…something about those eyes seems so familiar, like a warm home long forgotten, buried in the harsh, unforgiving snow.

Isabel had eyes like that.

I almost feel a twang of guilt, looking at those kids. Their clothes are tattered and covered in dirt, 3DM gear rusted and stained, and their skin is tightly stretched over protruding bones. The black-haired girl has a nasty cut on her cheek that appears to be freshly inflicted. There’s still dried blood on her right hand.

Green-Eyes shakes his head. “No, sir.”

I sigh and walk away. Only after several steps do I realize that something’s _off_ , then a couple more until I realize exactly _what_ is wrong.

“Aren’t you all a little young to be enrolled in the military?” I ask, swiveling to face the group. They’re all standing up now, ready to head in the opposite direction as I’m going. The blond boy gives a meek reply.

“We’re…not in the military, mister.”

I lock eyes with him. “Then why,” I say, my teeth tightly clenched. “do you have 3DM gear?”

An expression of panic forms on Blondie’s face, until Green-Eyes grabs hold of his arm and yanks him through a part in the houses. Only now do I notice the huge bag slung over Green-Eyes’ shoulder as the three zip onto a nearby rooftop. Little do they know, they would’ve had far better luck running from me than flying.

I latch my 3DMG to a chimney and fly onto the roof, following the thieves. They take off too, headed west, Green-Eyes gripping the sack with paper-white knuckles. He looks back to see where I am.

Which, it turns out, is his fatal mistake.

He rams full-force into a brick wall, sending up a spray of dust. If he’d been going any faster, he would have transformed into a wet grease stain on the side of the cold, apathetic building. Even as is, he seems in a pretty rough state, scarlet stains covering his body and the stone behind him. I land in front of him.

“That should teach you not to mess with the big kids, brat.” I pull my blade and hold it to his throat. To my surprise, he grins, spits out a mouthful of blood, and glares at me through strands of soaked hair.

“Do it,” he whispers, his roughened voice grating against my ears. I stare him down. “Do it! Kill me! If it’ll make you happy, just fucking cut my throat!” I can hear his voice crack. Tears mix with the blood. “Please, just leave _them_ alone. And…” he coughs “…the food…please. They’re wounded enough as is-please, don’t kill them!” He’s yelling. I don’t flinch as I press the blade down.

Then I stop. Just for a moment, I remember the bright green eyes I’d seen just a few minutes ago. How warm they felt, how…welcoming…

I remember the guilt I felt for these starving kids. I can see the outline of his ribs now, poking through his skin and the holes in his shredded shirt. Why is it any different now? The only thing that’s changed since then is that I know these kids can take initiative. They live the way they’ve chosen. I can respect that.

“Drop the blade!” I hear a shaking voice from behind me. Blondie’s holding a knife in a hand that quivers like his words. I lower my sword, and he raises his gaze to meet mine, pale blue glittering with childhood faith.

I feel a pang in my heart as I realize exactly why I recognize those eyes.

Farlan had eyes like that.

I turn back to Green-Eyes, holding out a hand.

“Captain Levi,” I say as he takes it and pulls himself up. “Ackerman.”

Green-Eyes flirts his stare from me to the girl directly behind me. “Eren Yeager,” he replies. “That’s Armin Arlert,” Blondie waves, “and Mikasa…Ackerman.”

I raise an eyebrow at Mikasa but say nothing. An expression that is best described as “oh _fuck_ no” passes briefly over her face. Turning back to Eren, I stow my blades.

“Nice to meet you three,” I say, mostly sarcastic. “If you know what’s good for you, from this day on, you’ll stay the _hell_ away from me. Got it?”

Eren nods and gives me another lopsided smirk. “See you ‘round, Captain,” he drawls, saluting. I salute back, practically on instinct, and maneuver myself onto the nearest rooftop.

 

 

“You let them go?”

I shrug. “They were fast.”

Erwin sighs and moves from the window, taking a seat in his chair. With me standing, we’re nearly eye-to-eye, which, for the record, I’m still _royally_ pissed about. He runs a hand through his hair.

“Fine,” he groans finally. “But the next time you see them, you bring them straight to me. Clear?”

Thoughts of what I’d told the kids run through my mind. _If you know what’s good for you, from this day on, you’ll stay the hell away from me. Got it?_ Those three seemed the self-preserving type; I feel certain they took my advice to heart.

“Crystal.”

Erwin shoos me from his office soon after, presumably to either work or nap, and so I find myself walking the building’s long and seemingly infinite halls. Discovering new and unfamiliar areas by the dozens, I wander, my mind lost to match my body, trailing over the events of this afternoon.

Green-Eyes – Eren Yeager – _ordering me_ to kill him, _pleading_ to let them live, to spare his companions.

Armin, the blond one, his hand and voice trembling like a leaf in the wind.

Mikasa. Mikasa _Ackerman._

I’d never heard the name.

But seeing those eyes, clouded in mystery, still glittering with a spark of hope, I felt as if I’d known them my whole life.

Because, shit, _I_ must’ve had eyes like that.

A long, long time ago, I just might’ve had a glimmer of life left inside me. Before I joined the Survey Corps. Before my first kill. Before Isabel and Farlan-

I’d give anything to let those two live. Including my own life.

I suppose, in that way, perhaps that means I relate to the green-eyed bandit.

I’d give anything for my friends.

 

 

As it turns out, the next scouting mission was set for the day after.

Or, to put it more simply, my squad will be leaving Wall Rose on a recon mission in less than an hour.

Hanji’s prattling on to the air, or perhaps to me, but I can’t be sure because I couldn’t care less about what she’s saying. I don’t have to listen to know she’s talking about titans, about how eventually she’ll catch one, about how Erwin _still_ won’t let her put the whole squad in harm’s way to capture a pet for herself-

Erwin enters the room at some point. Now he’s the one discussing plans, telling someone off, running through the formation again and again. I still don’t hear a word he says.

_Do it!_

The clock sings with three sharp echoing notes that resonate down my spine. I follow my heavily-embedded instincts. Strap on the 3DMG. Mount my horse. Ignore the shouts and cheers of the crowd as they gather around to watch us ride to our deaths. I hate them. I _fucking_ hate them.

_Kill me!_

The gate opens, and we gallop through it. Houses are still intact in this area; we won’t meet any titans until farther out. Hanji is still blabbering about god knows what, Erwin’s yelling orders that never reach my brain, and I feel _scared_. Not for myself. Hell, not even for them. They can take care of themselves. I feel scared for those in the walls. For those who might fall to the same fate as the prisoners of Wall Maria. For those who know nothing but _faith._ For the kids I’d spared just yesterday. God, had that been only yesterday? I feel as though millions of years have passed since I lowered that blade from Eren Yeager’s throat.

_If it’ll make you happy, just fucking cut my throat!_

We come across a titan. Our numbers drop gradually until one of us eventually slays it. I never even leave my horse. Then it happens again. Crimson droplets spray in every direction. And again. The crunching of bones fills the air, pounding in my ears to join the blood coursing through my veins. Again. _Please, just leave_ them _alone_. Again and _again and again and-_

“Levi!”

I realize Erwin’s been trying to talk to me. “What?”

“We’re heading back,” he replies, his voice hoarse and as broken as his expression. I nod and pull on the reins. We don’t encounter another titan. Even Hanji keeps quiet.

_They’re wounded enough as is-please, don’t kill them._

I could’ve saved some of those scouts. Dammit, I might’ve even been able to save them all on a good day, if Yeager’s words would stop playing on repeat in my mind, muffling the real world, the screams of my fellow soldiers…

I block out the cries of parents and friends, blind myself to the tears streaming down their faces as they learn of their loved one’s passing. My eyes never leave the path ahead. I’ve seen enough suffering for today, and, to be completely honest, I’m not in the mood to listen to the woes of those who knowingly befriended a dead man walking. I think someone calls my name, but I don’t turn to see who. Not that I ever have.

 

 

I dismount my horse and remove the 3DMG. It occurs to me that I might have to go out into the public, a place where everyone and anyone could recognize me. And getting recognized is far from ideal at the moment. Nevertheless, I take a breath, pull my hood up until it covers my eyes, and walk outside.

The crowd outside has dispersed, leaving barely a dozen people scattered around. I push past a couple and make my way home, ignoring the yells of “excuse you!” and “hey, watch where you’re going!”. People have been getting on my nerves as of late.

A group of young children run through the streets as I pass them, giggling and smiling, their eyes bright with wonder. I can’t help but feel a twang of envy at their joyful childhood – I’d never had anything of the sort. My innocence was ripped apart earlier than it should’ve been.

828 AD.

The year before my mother died.

The year her boss caught wind of my existence and realized that a child at my age probably wouldn’t put up much of a fight.

The year he tarnished my skin with his filthy, perverted touch.

The year he-

I realize I’ve stop walking. Tears are beginning to form in my eyes. Forcing them back, I take a few more steps until I reach the door. The children’s laughter has faded into the background.

Dust clouds up at my feet as I make my way up the decrepit stairs, which creak with each step. I sigh and push through into my house.

_There’s a knife in my hands and a flame in my heart. Dark crimson stains the floor beneath me, some mine, some his, neither clean. I spit into it, but his taste doesn’t leave my mouth and he’s laughing, the slimy bastard is shaking with peals of laughter, and I can hear my mother sobbing, see the tears streak through the dirt caking her cheeks._

_“Feisty, aren’t you?” he coos. I grip the blade until my knuckles are white and trembling. He lets out another bark. “I’d hate to ruin such a pretty face, but I fear you’ve left me no choice.”_

_He reaches to grab me, and I swing my knife upwards, nicking his other hand. He grunts and backs up._

_“Playtime’s over, you little son of a bitch. Drop the knife and this won’t get any more violent than it needs to be.” He glances down at his sliced hands. I take the opportunity._

_“FUCK!” he cries out, stumbling backwards, his hand covering the newest wound – a fresh, dripping stab to his lower intestine. “You piece of shit! I’ll fucking kill you, do you hear me? I’ll FUCKING KILL Y-”_

I blink myself back to the present. The teacup in my hand is rattling, sloshing hot liquid over the edge.

_Why that?_

_Why now?_

 

 

The pounding on my door is relentless; even angrily muttering “shut up!” every few seconds isn’t working, so the only viable option is to answer and tell them to their face. I drag myself out of bed, stumbling down the steps as I head for my front entrance.

“What?” I groan as I swing the door open. There’s a kid in a tattered shirt standing on my doorstep, sunlight glinting in his green eyes-

Oh, fuck no.

“I thought I told you to stay away from me if you liked your neck intact.”

He takes a step back “Well, yeah, yeah, you did, but – but Armin’s sick, really sick, and we don’t really know anyone else who could...help…?”

I begin to close the door. “I guess you don’t know anyone who can help, then.”

“Please!”

I turn and spot glimmering tears well up in his eyes. “Fine,” I sigh. “Where is he?” Eren’s face lights up with joy, and I try to ignore the tug at my heart. He leads me through alleyways, past squares crowded with people, over bridges and under canopies of roofs. I wonder how he found me, then decide I don’t want to know.

Finally, we stop at the end of a completely empty backstreet. I can hear unintelligible murmurs bouncing off the walls; a lullaby, in a language nearly dead.

“Mikasa?” Eren calls out, and the singing stops. “I brought Captain Levi.”

A pause, then… “Bring him over.”

Eren leads me to a corner, where Mikasa and Armin are sitting on the cold, grimy ground. Armin’s eyes are closed, his head resting in Mikasa’s lap, his breathing hasty and erratic. Observing him, I come to a quick, if slightly inaccurate, diagnosis.

“Easy. Some type of influenza.”

Eren shakes his head, his expression stony. “He’s been…coughing blood for a day or so now. Neither me nor Mikasa can figure out what’s wrong with him, or what brought it on.”

_Very_ inaccurate, apparently.

“Right,” I mutter, before speaking up. “We’re going to the hospital.” Kneeling down, I gently nudge Armin. He shakes his head and grips onto Mikasa’s pants.

“Hm?” he hums, opening one eye. Eren immediately drops to his knees and helps Armin into a sitting position.

“How are you feeling?” he blurts out. “We’re taking you to a hospital, maybe that’ll help with, you know, your-”

Armin winces at the sudden outburst, and Eren takes a hint to shut up. “Head hurts,” he wheezes. Eren nods, placing a gentle hand on Armin’s, then lacing his arm around his companion and hoisting him into the air. Armin wraps his arms around Eren’s neck, crushing his face into Eren’s shirt. A new fire springs in those green eyes, one of determination, maybe even a spark of hope; I haven’t seen that combination in years. Those who are old enough to be determined lost any shred of hope long ago. I begin to lead the way to the nearest hospital.

As we walk, Eren tries to strike up a friendly conversation. Which is a problem, because I don’t _do_ friendly conversation.

“When did you join the military?” he asks.

I give him a curt answer. “A long time ago.”

“How long ago? I’ve always wanted to join the Scout Regiment-”

“Don’t,” I interrupt him. “Trust me, the world within the walls might be bad enough, but…” Forcing my eyes to look ahead, I let my sentence trail off. _Goddammit_. Of course he wants to join the Scout Regiment. Ambitious kid like that, he’s probably been babbling about the Scouts since he could talk. And now, he’s told me, now that I’ve started to actually- _no._

_No,_ I don’t care about this kid that I found a few _days_ ago. I don’t give a _shit_ what happens to him. Or Mikasa and Armin, for that matter. I _don’t care_ if any of them goes off and turns themselves into titan chow. _I don’t care, I don’t-_

“Oh,” comes the disappointed reply. Eren pauses for a moment, then… “Why _did_ you join?’

I look at him out of the corner of my eye. He’s still holding Armin tightly to his chest, _protectively,_ as if he could _actually_ shield the other boy from danger. The question lingers in my mind, and the answer on my tongue, and I wonder how far back their little trio goes.

“None of your business,” I say. And I’m not wrong. My past is not something I dig up often, especially not for these three kids I just met on the street. I hear Mikasa say something to Eren, but the pounding in my ears blocks out her voice, and suddenly a scene is flashing in my mind’s eye.

_Fog and a metallic, sickeningly sweet smell blanket the air, screams mingling alongside. Pools of blood cover the ground. Bodies that I hope are dead fill my limited vision, and saliva begins to fill my mouth as my sight falters. Through sprouting tears, I can see Isabel, but something’s wrong, something’s-_ oh god, _no, no no no-_

_I glance up, and glowing red eyes stare me down. Something, someone, is lying between the titan’s teeth, and I don’t even need to look twice to know who it is-_

Farlan…

_The titan bites down, sending his torso skittering across the clearing. They’re dead, they’re fucking_ dead _, and there’s nothing I can do to stop it. They’re dead, and it’s my fault. I could’ve protected them, I could’ve saved them, if I’d only killed that titan before it got to them, if I’d let them come with me, I could’ve defended them, and now they’re dead-_

Eren taps my shoulder. “Is that the hospital?”

It is.

It’s a lot less impressive than the one downtown, lacking the tall, white towers and the intricate carvings of its larger counterpart. The small, grimy building standing before me hardly even looks like a hospital; if it wasn’t for the robe-clad patients milling around in varying levels of distress, I would’ve assumed that we’d taken a wrong turn somewhere.

I nod and lead Eren and Mikasa through the iron doors, Armin still held aloft in Eren’s arms. The former’s eyes stay closed as Eren lowers him onto a dirt-stained mattress. The white-clothed doctor motions to a nurse, who makes a move to escort us from the room. Eren’s feet stay planted to the ground.

“Kid,” I hiss. “We need to go.”

He shakes his head. “I’m staying.”

Even Mikasa reaches to take his arms, her eyes fluttering between the crumpled figure on the bed and his stubborn friend. “Eren, please don’t do this.”

There are tears in his eyes now. It’s almost fascinating, how quickly someone’s mood can change when faced with a possible threat. Or, in this case, not even a _threat,_ just a well-meaning professional attempting to separate them. If this kid joined the Scouts, he’d be dead within minutes…

Mikasa’s soothing tone finally coaxes Eren from the ward.  They wait in the sitting room, not sharing a word, hands tightly interlaced in worry.

As we wait, my mind strays.

_They’re lucky to still have friends._

The thought crosses my mind before I can stop it.

They’ve felt loss before. It’s clear. Parents, guardians…whatever turned them to the streets must’ve been as cruel and unforgiving to those three as it was to the rest of us.

My mother’s face beams in a memory I often bury.

_She’s sitting on the bed, running a brush through her dark hair. A small lantern lights the room, casting yellow pools onto the stained bedsheets. She’s talking to me, and even three decades later, her voice is crystal clear, her words ingrained in my mind._

_“I promise, I’ll stay with you, okay? No matter what, I’ll always be with you.”_

_I nod._

No, you won’t, I think.

Where are you now?

Where were you when I needed you more than ever?

_The view shifts._

_She’s still smiling. But it’s a pained smile now, her face straining to maintain it. I don’t know it yet, but she’s dying. She didn’t tell me then._

_“It’s just a silly flu, Levi,” she tells me. “Nothing to worry about.”_

_“Are you going to be okay?” I ask her._

_She lies._

_“Yes.”_

I glance over to Eren and Mikasa. They’ve begun to speak, their words hushed and indiscernible. I can’t see their faces. Paying no mind, I turn back to my memories.

_Farlan Church sits on the roof of our tiny house, staring up to where the sky should be. Instead, his eyes are meeting grey rock. We’ve been down here for as long as we can remember. All we know about the outside world is through secondary sources; books, letters, word of mouth._

_“I heard the sky is blue,” he says, his voice gentle. “There was a man in the square today. He said he’s been upstairs. Told us it’s blue, bluer than you could ever imagine, and that on a good day the sun will shine in your eyes and blind you.”_

_I crack a smile. “Sounds awful. I can’t wait to get up there.”_

_“We still need passports, Levi.”_

_“Fuck passports. We’ll get up there if it means killing every damn person in the way.”_

_He doesn’t reply, but I hear him laugh._

Then once again, the memory changes.

_“So? How did I do?”_

_A bundle of pork lies in her hands, wrapped in white string._

_“Isabel…” I’m fumbling, my words catching in my throat. “How did you do this?”_

_Her face falls. “I’m sorry, I just figured we deserved a break, and meat is super rare so I thought-”_

_“This is amazing.” I look into her eyes, bright and big and overwhelmingly green. “Thank you, Isabel.”_

_She’s beaming now. I can’t stop a smile from forming, either. She’s right, of course; meat is insanely rare these days, and damn near impossible to find. And we do deserve a break. After all the shit we’ve been through, we all deserve a break…_

_In my next memory, they’re not there, but Erwin is, along with a crushing guilt that comes back to me even now._

I shut my eyes and force back tears. Dammit…why now? A throbbing ache fills my stomach and my heart. The air around me grows thin, and I can’t breathe, can’t see, can’t think except to silently yell _no, god no, please not that, anything but that-_

Whoever I’m yelling to, they ignore my pleas and fill my mind with blood and screams and the sickening taste of bile crawling up my throat. I can hear Erwin apologizing over and over again, thinking, or maybe hoping, that it’ll bring them back, sew them together again, turn back the merciless flow of time.

It doesn’t.

As I open my eyes, I see Eren and Mikasa, both asleep, still holding onto each other. Outside, the sun has set, and I can feel my own eyelids getting heavy too. _Just a quick rest won’t hurt._

When my eyes open, there’s light streaming into them, blocking my vision for a second.

_On a good day, the sun will shine in your eyes and blind you._

I almost laugh.

Mikasa’s spotted me. “You’re awake.”

“Hadn’t noticed,” I tell her. “Did you go see Armin?”

“He’s still asleep,” Eren says as he turns to face me. “Doctor says he’ll need a few days, but he’ll be fine.”

I nod. “Great. Can I go home now?”

“Sure.”

Despite his confirmation, I don’t move. Instead, I catch the eye of the man who’s just walked into the room, who I recognize from yesterday as Armin’s doctor.

“Armin Arlert?” I ask him.

He nods. “Just woke up. You can come visit him, if you’d like.”

Eren and Mikasa are through the door before I can even stand up. As I go to follow them, the doctor gives me a small smirk, as if to say ‘kids, huh?’ I don’t return it.

By the time I reach the ward, the two are already by their friend’s side, chatting away. Even Mikasa is smiling and laughing, relief painting her face bright. They go silent when I walk in.

“Glad to see you’re better,” I say.

 Armin smiles. “Thank you, sir.”

I head back to the waiting room. Those three deserve some time alone.

It takes a while for Eren and Mikasa to reappear, but eventually they do, both sporting wide smiles. I wait for them to sit down before speaking.

“I’m heading back home.”

Eren nods. “Thanks. For helping us, I mean.”

“Do you have a place to stay?”

“I figured…” He fidgets and swallows before continuing. “I figured we’d just stay here, just until Armin’s better. We don’t exactly have a house or…or anything like that.”

I stand and glance at the door. “Come to my house. You can stay with me until you have a plan. And when they release him, Armin can come too.”

He’s lost for words. They both are, mouths opening and closing like fish.

_This is my redemption. This is how I can make up for all of it. By giving these kids a chance, I can save them, as well as myself._

“Thank you, Levi.”

Eren looks up at me, tears welling in those green eyes. Mikasa’s crying too, hands covering her mouth in shock. A smile pulls at the corner of my mouth.

_No, thank_ you _. For giving me a purpose._

“Let’s get out of here,” I tell them.

They don’t even hesitate.


End file.
